Read the excerpt from "A Letter Written by Sarah Stockert." The play is lively and witty. I can't wait for you to see it when you visit the big city. I'll admit I was a teeny bit nervous. Butterflies in my stomach. No, it felt more like a helicopter as my stomach grumbled and cramped. My head was stuffed with cotton, my brain dizzy and confused. On my body, the wool costume felt tight, the fibers clammy with sweat. There was even a split second when I thought I might throw up. When my chance at stardom arrived, I answered the call immediately and wholeheartedly. As they say, the show must go on! My acting instinct rose to the occasion. I knew my lines, and no one would have known I had the slightest hint of stage fright. Striding onto the stage and taking my mark, my persona changed. The nerves vanished. Where to? I don't have a clue. In their place, perseverance and a little bit of confidence. The overhead lights were hot, blinding, and made it impossible to decipher faces. To be honest, I was a little annoyed that the producer hadn't noticed and turned them down. What is Sarah Stockert's perspective of her first performance according to this text? She is embarrassed. She is proud. She is scared. She is upset.